The Beast

TWENTY-FOUR

Mary considered herself a total feminist. Yes, it was true that most men could deadlift more than most women—and that was a reality among both humans and vampires—but other than that largely insignificant physical disparity, there was absolutely nothing, in her view, that males could do better than females could.

So it was a bit of an eye-opener to find herself feeling like a total failure when, in fact, she was merely in the position all men were in.

Entities who were born with masculine sex organs could not bear children, and neither could she. See? Total equality there.

God, this hurt.

And it was painful in the strangest kind of way. The sensation was cold; it was a cold emptiness right in the center of her chest. Or maybe it was down lower, even though the metaphor of having a nothing-ness where her uterus was seemed just a little too Lifetime movie.

But that was what it felt like. A hollow space. A cavern.

“I’m sorry,” she heard herself mumble. Even though that made no sense.

“Please,” he begged. “Don’t ever say that—”

Oh, hey, look, he’d come over and was kneeling in front of her, his hands on her knees, his teal eyes staring up at her as if he were about to expire from the thought of having hurt her.

She placed her palm on his cheek, and felt the warmth of his face. “Fine, I won’t apologize for that,” she said. “But I am sorry for the both of us. You don’t want to feel like this and neither do I, yet this is where we’re at—”

“No, it’s not where we’re at, because I reject all of it. I’m not going to allow this to affect me or you—”

“Have I mentioned lately how much I hate cancer?” She dropped her arm, aware that she was talking over him, but unable to stop herself. “I really, really, really fucking hate that disease. I’m so glad vampires don’t get it, because if you ever ended up with some version of it, I would seriously hate the universe for the rest of my immortal existence—”

“Mary, did you hear what I said?” He took her hand and put it back to his face. “I’m not going to ever think of this again. I’m not letting this come between us. It’s not going to be—”

“Emotions don’t work like that, Rhage. I’m a therapist, I should know.” She tried to smile, but was pretty sure a grimace came out instead. “We don’t get to pick how we feel—especially not about something as fundamental as having children. I mean, other than death and who you want to spend your life with, the whole kid thing is the very basis of existence.”

“But you can choose what you do about your emotions. That’s what you always say—you can choose how you react to your thoughts and your feelings.”

“Yes. Except somehow . . . that doesn’t seem like a workable plan at the moment.”

God, why don’t more people knee their therapists in the balls, she wondered. That sanctimonious pile of horseshit about “feel your feelings, but let your nurturing parent control your responses,” was really not helpful at a time like this—when you were on the verge of breaking down and your partner was the same, and there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that the two of you were never going to get through this because, Christ, who could?

Oh, and P.S., it was all her fault because she was the one with the lack of fertile eggs—

“Mary, look at me.”

When she finally did, she was surprised at the fierce expression on that beautiful face of his. “I refuse to let anything come between us, especially not some dumb-ass pipe dream about having a kid. Because that’s what it is. Wrath and Z? Yes, they have young with their mates, but they had to live with the reality that their shellans could die—for fuck’s sake, Wrath nearly did lose Beth. And Qhuinn? Yeah, sure, he’s not in love with Layla, but do not tell me he doesn’t care about that female with all his heart, considering what she’s carrying for the both of them.” He exhaled and sat back, bracing his palms against the floor. His eyes drifted to the headboard and roamed around as he traced the carvings. “When I think about it logically . . . as strong as this desire for young is . . .” He shifted his weight and prodded at the center of his chest. “. . . as much as I feel a need for a young specifically with you, what I know to be even more true is that I wouldn’t trade any child for you.”

“But I’m immortal, remember? You wouldn’t have to worry about me on the birthing bed like your brothers do.”

His eyes shot to hers. “Yes, but then I wasn’t ever going to see you again, Mary. That was the balance, remember? You wouldn’t have known that we’d ever been together . . . but I would have. For the rest of my life, I would have known that you were on the planet, alive and well . . . I just couldn’t ever see you, touch you, laugh with you again. And if I ran into you? You were going to drop dead on the spot.” He rubbed his face. “Your not being able to have young? It’s the reason we’re together. It’s not a curse, Mary . . . it’s a blessing. It’s what saved us.”

Mary blinked back tears. “Rhage . . . ”

“You know it’s true. You know that’s the balance.” He sat up and took her hands. “You know that’s why we have anything at all. You gave us our future precisely because you can’t bear my sons and daughters.”

As their eyes met once more and held, she started to say she was sorry again. But he wouldn’t have it. “No. I’m not hearing that, Mary. I’m serious. I’m not fucking hearing that. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one thing.”

“But you want a—”

“Not more than I want you with me, by my side, living with me, loving with me.” His stare never left hers, the force of his conviction so strong, it made his eyes burn. “I’m serious, Mary. Now that I’m thinking about it . . . now that I’m running the math in my head? No. Life without you is a tragedy. Life without our young? That’s . . . well, it’s just a different path.”

Mary’s first instinct was to stay stuck in her own drama, the hamster wheel of regret and anger and sadness as seductive and potentially unrelenting as a black hole. But then she tried to reach past all that, tried to somehow get across to the other side.

What helped her to safety?

The love in his eyes.

As Rhage looked up at her, his stare was like the sun, a source of warmth and life and love. Even with all that she couldn’t give him? He still somehow managed to look at her as if everything that mattered to him . . . was exactly what he had in front of him.

And in that moment, Mary realized something.

Life didn’t have to be perfect . . . for true love to exist in it.

It was just a different path.

The strangest thing happened as those six words came out of Rhage’s mouth. It was as if a weight was lifted off of him, everything becoming light and kind of frothy, his heart starting to sing, his soul releasing its burden, the distance that had creeped in between him and his mate just poofing away like smoke clearing, like fog lifting, like a storm passing through and continuing on.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” As he spoke the words, he felt . . . free. “Nothing. I wouldn’t change anything.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“Well, I don’t.” He stroked his way up her calves, pulling on her legs so she’d look at him. “I don’t at all.”

Mary took a deep breath. And then that smile of hers came out, her lips turning up at the corners, those eyes of hers re-lighting. “Really?”

“Truly.”

Rhage got to his feet and sat down next to her, mirroring her pose, except his legs were so long, his soles were flat on the floor. Taking her hand, he bumped her with his shoulder once. Twice. Until she giggled and bumped him back.

“You know, you’re right,” he said. “Talking helps.”

“Funny, I was just thinking that was a load of bullcrap.”

He shook his head. “It’s amazing how everything depends on how you frame it.”

“What are you, married to a therapist or something?” As they laughed a little, she shrugged. “You know, I never really thought about children. I was busy getting through college, and then my mom got sick. Then I got sick. By the time I might have started wondering about them, it was too late for me—and there was no dwelling on any kind of loss in my mind. I guess because I always knew the cancer was going to come back. I just knew it. And I was right.”

“And then you mated a vampire.”

“I did.” Except his Mary frowned. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

She turned his hand over, tracing the lines that crossed his palm. “I am glad we’re talking—I’m mean, it was inevitable that this was going to come up, and really, in retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate it better. And even though this is tough stuff for both of us, I’m very glad it’s on the table and I’m happy you feel better. I just . . . you should be aware that something like this is not going to be fixed in a single conversation.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. He’d been feeling like his gears weren’t meshing, but now? Everything was as smooth as it used to be—and seemed even stronger. “Maybe.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to be surprised or feel bad if your feelings of disappointment come back. The next time you see Wrath and L.W., the next time Z walks in holding Nalla? You’re probably going to get those pangs again.”

As he pictured his King and his brother, he shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. But you know what? I’m just going to remind myself that I have you, and that wouldn’t be possible under different circumstances. That’s going to wipe the slate clean again, I promise.”

“Just remember, denial is not a viable long-term strategy, not if you’re looking for mental health.”

“Ah, but perspective is very much a long-term strategy. And so is being grateful for everything you have.”

She smiled again. “Touché. But please talk to me? I’m not going to break, and I’d rather know where you are.”

Lifting his hand, he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Mary, you’re the strongest person I know.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.” With a shift and stretch up, she kissed him on the mouth. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, however.”

“I guess it was just such a surprise,” he murmured. “I didn’t expect anything like having young or not having them to ever bother me.”

“You never know what life’s going to throw at you.” Now, she was the one shrugging. “And I guess that’s the good news and the bad news.”

“I meant what I said to you way back when. If you want a young, I’ll find one for you. Even if it’s human.”

Because God knew that vampire young were nearly impossible to adopt. They were too rare, too precious.

Mary shook her head after a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s ever going to be me. My maternal instinct gets expressed through my work.” She glanced over at him. “I would have liked to be a parent with you, though. That would have been a lot of fun. You’d be a wonderful father.”

Rhage took her face in his hands, and felt all the love he had for her course through him. He hated that she hurt over this. Would have done absolutely anything to keep her from knowing any pain, whatsoever.

Except sacrifice their love.

“Oh, my Mary, you would have been the most amazing mother.” He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. “But you are no less a female in my eyes. You are, and will always remain, the most perfect mate on earth, and the single best thing that ever happened to me.”

As her eyes teared up again, she smiled. “How is it possible . . . that you always make me feel so beautiful?”

He kissed her once, and then again. “I’m just reflecting back what I see and know to be true. I’m nothing but a mirror, Mary mine. Now will you let me kiss you again? Mmmmmmm . . .”